Greene smiled.
– Marcus is my real name. I’m not quite as cautious as my friend.
Abdur Salaam smiled in return.
– You do not have Soviet agents trying to kill you. Not that I believe our guest desires to kill me. Fahad vouches for your sincerity. He rarely vouches for anyone, let alone a Soviet.
Greene walked to the window, checking the streets, apparently without any sense of concern, an idle glance, before perching on the window ledge, his legs stretched out in front of him, tidying the line of his trousers while asking:
– You want to defect, Mr Demidov?
The tone of the question was flippant. There was scepticism and reluctance. Of more concern, there was very little excitement. Leo answered carefully:
– In exchange for asylum, not just for myself but – Yes, for the girl and the woman, where are they, by the way?
– They’re safe.
Greene paused, registering the distrust. Leo added:
– We would want a new life, the three of us.
Greene replied with a quick nod, as if he’d heard this request a thousand times and was keen to return to the intelligence on offer:
– You’re not a soldier, are you? You’re a civilian employee of the Afghan government, an adviser. What kind of information do you have?
Leo made his case:
– I have worked for the Afghan government for seven years.
– In what capacity?
– I was training their secret police force. Before the Com munist regime took power, I was helping them to survive. After they took power, I continued helping them to survive, the tools and resources changed, the job remained the same.
Greene lit a cigarette.
– What did you do before you came to Afghanistan, Mr Demidov?
– I worked for the KGB.
Greene inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his mouth. Fahad grew impatient, a soldier, not accustomed to the subtleties of diplomatic negotiations. He snapped at Leo:
– Talk about Soviet operations in Afghanistan, not the KGB. That is the information that we want you to share.
Like a nervous child, Leo hastily listed the points of interest:
– I know specifics, details regarding the equipment being used, tanks, helicopters, anything that is being used or about to be brought in. I know the deployment patterns of the 40th Army. I can tell you the projected mortality rate before the invasion and how that number has been revised since the invasion. I can do the same with the financial costs. I know the names of most of the senior officers and I know their sentiments on the war. I know our limits, how many soldiers we can afford to lose, how much money we’re prepared to spend. I can provide information so that you could accurately estimate the point at which the Soviet Union would have no choice but to retreat.
Greene flicked his cigarette on the carpet, watching to see it burn, before stubbing it out under his shoe.
– Let me explain the situation from our point of view. We’re not supposed to be involved in this war.
Salaam interjected:
– Pakistan is also not supposed to be involved in this war. The remark caused Greene to raise an eyebrow, as if the sentiment could only have been uttered ironically. He continued:
– In the United States there is no public appetite for becoming embroiled in this conflict. If we grant you asylum we risk opening a major rift with the Soviets, sparking a political fight the outcome of which we might not be able to control. They would demand your return. We would say no. And so on: who knows where it would end up?
Leo was quick to correct the assumption.
– I agree. It is essential the Soviets don’t find out about my defection. And there is no reason for them to know. They surely believe I was killed in bombing raids. The chances of me making it to Pakistan are slight, and I would never have managed it without Fahad’s help. The Soviets would never have imagined that the mujahedin would’ve aided me. Fahad could even claim tt they have me hostage and after a certain period of time announce that they’ve executed me.
Leo had not mentioned his daughters in Moscow, not wishing to complicate the issue further. Greene inhaled again, appearing to appreciate the degree of consideration that Leo had given the plan.
– Your suggestion is smart. Of course we wouldn’t announce your defection but there is a chance that they will find out all the same.
Leo waited, sensing that Greene was about to make his position clear.
– I’m sure you have much information that would interest us. I have a different proposition. We could debrief you here, pay you a sum of money – That’s no good. We need a new home, a new country. We would be found here, we would be hunted down and we would be killed.
Abdur Salaam glanced at Marcus Greene. The men were working in concert to obtain the information while giving nothing in return. Greene shrugged.
– If the United States were committed to involvement in the conflict, even through covert means, then yes, you would be an asset. The United States is not committed. The United States is undecided. And for that reason I am afraid to say we cannot accept you.
Same Day
Greene and Salaam descended the stairway at a brisk pace, keen to terminate the meeting since no deal could be struck on their terms. Leo followed behind, pleading, the negotiations on the brink of collapse:
– There must be something I can say to persuade you. Some intelligence I could give you now, to prove my worth.
Greene answered without turning around:
– You should tell me as much as possible.
– I’m not going to tell you everything only to be left behind.
– Then we’re at a dead end. I’m going to discuss you with my superiors. It is possible they’ll take a different view. You should wait here. It will only take a few days.
– You’re going to recommend that they refuse my request for asylum? You’re going to claim the information I offer is not worth the risk?
– In the end, this is not my decision.
Leo could no longer hide his desperation.
– They’ll listen to you! They’ll accept whatever recommendation you make. You’re the only person who has met me!
Greene was about to reply when he stopped so abruptly that Leo almost bumped into him. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Captain Vashchenko.
The captain was positioned between two Afghan men, special operatives and his guides to this region since he spoke neither Dari nor Urdu. Vashchenko was dressed as a traveller and wearing Western clothes. His disguise fitted him poorly: he looked awkward in casual clothes. Despite the humid night he was wearing a baggy jacket, no doubt concealing a weapon. Fahad, on the step behind Leo, reahed for his gun. Greene indicated that they should remain calm, keen to avoid an exchange of fire in the stairway. An uneasy standoff remained until, speaking in Russian, the captain called up:
– We can’t let you take him.
Vashchenko presumed that the CIA would accept Leo gladly. Greene could have corrected him, declaring that he had no interest in Leo, which would have ended the standoff immediately. Instead, he gestured towards the restaurant.
– Why don’t we discuss this?
The Pakistani intelligence officer was less polite. Unable to speak Russian, he addressed Greene in Urdu. Leo
